What to do? What to do?
by ForTheWin-50
Summary: Six years later the castle inhabitants are growing restless. Throw in a new girl, and shamelessly fluffy romance and you've got yourself a story worthy of distracting you from that chem homework you should be doing. JaneJester RakePepper SmithyOC
1. Frightfully Boring

Hello potential readers! Peaches here, with my trusty kitty-cat Mojo! Thank you for considering this humble and unworthy fanfic for your precious entertainment. We are most grateful! Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome! Enjoy!

Chapter One: Frightfully Boring…

It was raining in Kippernia. Or rather, pouring. Most of the normal castle hustle and bustle had gone indoors, leaving the work yard strangely quiet. Except for the routine clanging from Smithy's forge of course. Smithy was hard at work. Rake and Jester had urged him to come down to the tavern with them, but he had to finish some brass-work for the queen's wardrobe. Smithy frowned in concentration as he tinkered with the last intricate details on the handle. Flowers and vines seemed to blossom at his fingertips in the malleable metal. Yet Smithy was not happy with his handiwork. He stood back, wiping the sweat and grime from his brow. Just as any other time, he could never get at why his work never looked quite right. Smithy walked to the edge of his forge, staring out at the thundering downpour. Maybe he should have gone with the lads...

...

Jane hated rain. She really did. Rain meant no flight patrol, no practice in the yard, no fun at all. Instead she was tucked away in the boring castle kitchens, letting Pepper plait her hair. The other kitchen staff had gone to their quarters, it was a slow day after all. Jane was secretly glad. It was good that the king could afford extra help now, but the new kitchen maids were so silly...

"Hobgoblins, your hair has gotten so long!" Pepper prattled cheerfully. She took a passing glance at the beef and carrot stew simmering on the hearth then happily went back to braiding.

Jane made a face; she usually objected to this sort of girly thing, but Pepper had insisted.

"I love when the autumn rains come," Pepper chattered on. "It seems like another year's already at a close. Imagine Jane! You and I are nearly old enough to wed!" She gave a longing glance out the window. "And the boys have grown up so nicely..."

"Maybe one boy in particular." Jane smirked at Pepper, who quickly finished the braid and began chopping sage violently, casting furtive glances the stew as her cheeks began to color with embarrassment. Jane gave a very un-Jane giggle; perhaps girly things were amusing every so often. "Don't think I don't catch you watching him. Especially the other day when he was working in the garden with his tunic open."

"Well this conversation sounds wonderfully raunchy, may I join?"

The girls looked up to see a lanky young fellow garbed top to bottom in forget-me-not blue standing in the doorway.

"And who may I ask," Jester added as he picked up a meat pasty from the morning's breakfast. "are we talking about?"

"Oh just a specific gardener whom Pepper is passionately enthralled with." Jane said.

"Not passionately-" Pepper blushed.

"But you are in fact enthralled?" Jester interrupted, his mouth full of pasty.

"No, I didn't say-"

"You implied." Jane grinned.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Oh a Freudian slip then? What other juicy secrets are locked in your subconscious I wonder?" Jester teased.

"What?" Pepper's face was getting pinker by the second. "That doesn't even make sense!"

"Right, Sigmund Freud won't be born for a couple hundred years or so..." Jester muttered to himself. He cleared his throat. "That's beside the point! You're ...You're... You fancy Rake!"

"Innovative as ever," Jane rolled her eyes. "I thought you and the lads were headed to the tavern?"

Jester sighed. "We _were. _But Smithy decided to be an overachiever and get extra work done, the dollop-head."

"Then why can't you and Rake go on your own?" Jane said, picking lazily at a pasty herself.

"I usually need someone to help me get Rake home," Jester shrugged. "He doesn't hold his liquor well."

"Then why do you make him drink?" Jane sighed.

"Well I can't drink by myself like some clotpole!" Jester said, exasperated.

"You're hopeless," Jane groaned.

"Not as hopeless as- Speak of the Devil." Jester smiled wickedly as Rake walked in, sopping wet. His dripping clothes clung to his skin, outlining him nicely. Jane smirked as Pepper went pink at the sight of him.

"Oh, Rake," She spluttered. "I didn't see you there..."

"Well you sure see him now!" Jester called happily from across the kitchen. Jane snickered and elbowed him in the chest.

"Hush now, you're awful," She said. "Why don't you fetch Rake a towel Pepper? I'll show Jester the door."

"Have fun dealing with the wet clothes!" Jester called happily over his shoulder as Jane pushed him out the door.

….

Ten minutes later, Rake sat in his breeches, wrapped in a quilt as his clothes steamed dry on the mantel. He wrapped the corners around tighter, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible as some of the newer kitchen maids hustled by, giggling as they finished the evening chores. He wished they'd stop. He wished that Pepper had let him go back to his chambers instead of sitting out here where all the girls were giggling at him.

"Rake?"

He turned to see Pepper, looking pretty as a peach, as radiant as a rose, holding a hot mug of mulled cider out to him. Maybe sitting out here wasn't so bad after all.

"Thanks Pepper." He accepted the warm mug gratefully. Closing his eyes, he took a long swig. Opening his eyes he saw Pepper stifling a laugh behind her hand. Rake groaned.

"Oh not you too! Why are all the girls giggling at me?"

"Your hair," Pepper giggled. "It's gone all fluffy; it's sticking up everywhere like a little tike who's just rolled out of bed." She reached down and fluffed his hair.

Rake, who was not anticipating the sudden feminine contact, nor the alluring smell of Pepper's lilac and honey soap, turned pink and dropped his mug. It shattered to the floor with a resounding crash.

"Oh my, here-"Pepper knelt to gather the cracked pottery.

"N-no, i-it was my fault-" Rake stuttered stepping forward to help and tripping over Pepper in the process.

"Rake, are you alright?"

Pepper crawled over as Rake pulled himself up, knocking into her and sending them rolling into a heap. Rake realized that he had landed on something soft. He pulled himself up to find that he had tumbled onto Pepper, who now lay below him, pink and petrified. Pepper, who was a little discombobulated from the fall, found herself laying with her face a few precious inches from her beloved garden boy. His skin had been scratched by the shards of mug during the tumble. He had also lost the quilt, leaving them in quite the compromising situation, he, tunic-less and bleeding, pinning the very flushed head chef beneath him. They sat frozen for what seemed like forever, both to afraid to move.

"I have to bake a cake for the Duke of Faunsbury's visit tomorrow." Pepper finally managed to squeak out.

"Yeah," Rake replied, feeling stupid and slow. He scrambled off of Pepper and grabbed his slightly damp clothing from the mantel. He turned back to apologize, but found that he couldn't really make his words come out properly. Instead he made a weird gurgling noise and a hurried twitch that was supposed to be a wave. Unable to think of anything else, he dashed out of the kitchens.

...

Jane sighed. The rain had stopped during the night and now she sat, leaning on the battlements, smelling the dew and watching the morning sun peek its head up.

"Look Jane, it almost matches your hair."

Jane smirked. "Up this early Jester? You usually sleep till dinner."

"Usually I do believe in a healthy dose of slumber but," Jester leaned against the wall and groaned. "I can't seem to sleep well as of late."

"Why not?" Jane frowned. "Is something keeping you awake?"

Jester dragged a hand across his sleep stricken face.

"Just the suffocating silence," he mumbled. "Jane, it is so _frightfully _boring these days_."_

"It has been awfully quiet as of late," Jane sighed. "But I doubt there is much we can do about it."

Jester's eyes narrowed. Jane inclined her head.

"You have an idea?" She asked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Well," Jester said slowly, he leaned over, resting his head on her shoulder. "There is something _we_ could do."

"What?" Jane looked down, eyes wide with innocent excitement. "What Jester?"

Jester groaned. Even when he pulled an obviously awful move (which mind you, he never did unless circumstances deemed it should be so), she never seemed to notice.

"Well Jane," He said, with the air of an old veteran. "When a young man's mind is restless, he turns to thoughts of-"

There were shouts coming from the courtyard. Jane looked up, moving quickly towards the sound. Jester, bereft of his headrest, fell flat on his face.

"Jane!"

"Save your whining Bell-Boy," Jane grinned. "This is the excitement we've waited for!"

Jester lay face down and groaned. Jane seized his ankles, dragging him behind her.

"No, not the stairs Jane!"

….

A note from Mojo:

I hope you tiny mortals have enjoyed the stellar writing skills of my human compatriot. We will return soon, Apurrrrrrrrrrrrrr.


	2. Excitement Arrives

Hello everyone again! Here is the second installment of the fanficiton that is probably not as important as that English paper you're supposed to be working on. Thank you for your time and support! Mojo wuvs his wittle readers!

Chapter Two: Excitement Arrives

Jane and Jester raced down the steps to the courtyard. The staff crowded on the pavement, forcing Jane to stand on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse.

"May I assist you my lady?" Jester crouched on the cobblestone beside her. Jane climbed on his shoulders.

Jester grunted as he stood. "Maggots, you're fat."

"I am not, you pansy."

"Ugh, just tell me what's going on so I can put you down..."

Jane scanned the situation playing out before her.

"Well it's got something to the merchant, he's having a fit about something..."

"What's our phony friend got up his arse today?"

"Language Jester, I'm trying to hear..."

Magnus Breech stood in the middle of the courtyard, wearing a ridiculous looking pea green satin tunic with rabbit fur trim; it made his mighty belly look twice as rotund.

"I demand an audience with the head of the guard!" He fumed, making sure everyone knew of his displeasure.

Jane saw Sir Theodore descending the castle steps towards the ruckus. The crowd parted, letting the senior knight pass.

"Good Morning Magnus," Sir Theodore said calmly, looking amused at the sight of the merchant's gaudy tunic. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Theft your knightship! I've been robbed!" Magnus Breech beckoned to his cronies, who forced a girl forward. "This wench is the perpetrator! And she refuses to relinquish my property!"

The girl looked about the same age as Jane, but the physical similarity stopped there. While Jane had long fiery hair and skin tanned from long days of practice, this girl was incredibly pale with short-cropped dark hair. She looked worn, but well kept and Jane could tell that she was certainly not about to take the merchant's accusations.

"I'll have you know, I am no wench," She spat at the merchant, her head held high. She then turned to Sir Theodore. "Sir, this man is trying to force me to sell something that is rightfully mine."

"What's going on Jane?" Jester grunted.

"The merchant's accusing a girl of theft. She's not taking his crap."

"Excellent! We must congratulate her later..."

Sir Theodore held up his hands for silence.

"Let's start with your name, my dear." He spoke slowly and carefully to the maid, trying to calm her.

"Orla, sir."

"And what business have you in Kippernia?"

"I'm looking for work, sir."

"Now, tell me what happened Maid Orla."

The girl looked nervously at the crowd then cleared her throat.

"I have been traveling for many days to cone work at the castle here. When I arrived in town I stopped to ask for directions. Unfortunately," she grimaced at the merchant. "I stopped at this snake's stall to ask. He rebuffed me and told me not to bother him, only to call me back when he spotted my pendant." She showed Sir Theodore a large teardrop-shaped disk of lilac colored sea glass, wrapped with intertwining bands of silver on a silver chain.

"What's it look like Jane?"

"Quite a beauty, I wonder where she got it..."

"Well that doesn't tell me anything."

"Hush up Bell Boy, I'm trying to hear."

"After trying to cover for just insulting me, this worm demanded I sell it to him. After I refused he made a scene and set his goons on me, going on about how I had stolen it."

Sir Theodore nodded, his face unreadable. It was the kind of face he used during training assessments when Jane couldn't tell if she were doing something horrible wrong or passing with flying colors. He turned to the merchant.

"Now Magnus, let's hear your side then."

"This wench came to my stall under the pretense of asking directions." Magnus Breech fumed. "She stole the necklace, Sir Theodore. Do you honestly believe that a street urchin like _that_," He spat in the girl's direction. "Would own something so dear?"

"It is questionable..." Sir Theodore mused.

"Please sir, you have to believe me!" The girl panicked. "It's the only thing I have left! It's worth more to me than anything else in the world!"

"Have you any proof?" The merchant sneered.

"I do."

The crowd turned at the sound of the soft, strong voice.

"It's Smithy!" Jane whispered loudly.

"Wha-" Jester jerked back, sending them backwards, tumbling across the cobblestone with a muffled _"whump"_.

"Maggots!"

"Well this is a compromising position." _**SMACK!**_ "Ah! Jane, that hurt!"

"Silence Bell-Boy, you will be dealt with later."

Smithy walked slowly towards Sir Theodore, carefully avoiding eye contact with the girl, who looked terrified of him.

"I made that pendant, years ago with my father. I gave it to Maid Orla as a gift. You'll see our family seal on the back."

Sir Theodore motioned for the necklace; the girl handed it over wordlessly. Sir Theodore flipped the pendant over, pressed into the silver were two crossed hammers with a crown above them and the initials "J. S." below. Smithy reached into the front of his tunic, drawing a brown leather cord from around his neck. He handed the cord to Sir Theodore, who examined the seal that hung from it. He smiled gently to Orla.

"It's a match."

The girl gratefully accepted her necklace back, giving Smithy a nervous smile. He nodded at her, bid Sir Theodore good day and walked back towards his forge. The crowd turned to face the merchant, who was nervously backing away, trying to come up with a witty escape route.

"Magnus," Sir Theodore said sternly. "I don't think I need remind you that the castle's business agreement with you is conditional."

"Of-of course," the Merchant was trying desperately to seem less conspicuous. The obnoxious tunic wasn't helping.

"Then I expect you won't take advantage of my services to terrorize innocent girls in the near future? Are we clear?"

The merchant nodded.

"Good, you are dismissed Master Breech."

The merchant needed no second warning, he took off surprisingly fast for one so beefy. Sir Theodore offered Orla his arm.

"Come my dear," he said gallantly. "It's time you met his highness."

Sir Theodore proved to be a very gracious host, showing Orla around the castle before bringing her to the throne room.

"You've come at an opportune time," Sir Theodore said as he opened the heavy wooden doors. "King Caradoc has been expanding the castle staff due to the prosperous few seasons we've been having."

Orla gaped at the high ceilings, the tapestries of rich colors, the long banquet tables with little vases of autumn asters and chrysanthemums, and the hundreds of candles adorning the chandeliers. At the far end sat a stately man with dark hair and quite an impressive goatee. He and a radiant blond woman were listening attentively to what appeared to be the court financier, who was pouring over a lengthy list of parchment.

"That's Milton Turnkey," Sir Theodore said quietly to Orla. "His daughter is my apprentice."

As they approached the king looked up, obviously eager to be discussing something other than finances.

"Ah, Sir Theodore!" He welcomed in a booming voice. "Who is this lovely creature you've brought to see us?"

"Orla Sinead," Orla said, curtsying. "I was hoping to find a job at the castle, majesty."

"Ah," The king turned to the financier. "Milton would you be a good chap and check on those grain orders for me? I'll finish the documents later."

"Of course your majesty," Mister Turnkey bowed low before exiting.

"Now," the king said. "What is your trade, Maid Orla?"

"I am an herbalist, sire; I'm also working on a mage apprenticeship."

"A mage! Where did you study?" King Caradoc exclaimed.

"I studied under Rivald of Themes, sire. But my apprenticeship has been discontinued due to an unfortunate accident."

King Caradoc nodded. "Ah, yes I heard about that. One of Rivald's potion's experiments went wrong, correct? Shame, he is quite the warlock. He must have quite the mess on his hands now, I heard he blew up half of South Themes."

Orla gave him a wry smile. "Yes, but luckily I do have my Intermediate Magyk License if there's anything to be done with small tasks. I can sew and cook a little."

"Hmmm," the King stroked his goatee, mulling it over, he turned to his wife. "What do you think dearest?"

"Have her work with Adeline, she always needs the help." The queen said gently.

"Right you are my sweet," The king smiled. "Sir Theodore will take you to Adeline Turnkey, she's our head Lady in Waiting and our Head of Staff. I'm sure she'll have something for you to do."

Orla curtsied once more. "Thank you your majesties. It's most generous of you."

As Orla was led away by Sir Theodore, Queen Gwendolyn laid her head on her husband's shoulder.

"She reminds me of a young self," the queen murmured. "Lost and alone in a strange place."

"Not lost any more." The king kissed his wife softly. "And never alone."

"Of course," The queen smiled letting her hand rest on her swelling belly. "Especially now, I've got a little friend to take with me wherever I go."

"Not much longer, dear heart," the king said, nuzzling his wife. "And you still look as beautiful as ever."

The queen let out a girlish giggle. "Caradoc! You cad!"

…

A note from Mojo:

Yes, yes, if you've enjoyed the shameless use of fluff, please tune in for our next installment. Apurrrrrrrrr.


	3. Oh, The Cake

Hello there friends! Back with the third installment, sorry it took so long! Thank you to all the reviews, they're really encouraging!

Chapter Three: Oh, the cake...

"And as exciting as our laundry room is, I'm sure you're just dying to see the larder. Come along dear, please keep up."

Orla had been following Lady Turnkey for a good half hour and she still hadn't set down her traveling pack. All she wanted was something to eat and a good chair to park her bum for a while. She followed Lady Turnkey down what appeared to be an outdoor corridor, trying her best to keep a semi-placid smile plastered to her face.

"Afternoon Lady Turnkey!"

A handsome boy with dusty blond hair stepped out nonchalantly from an adjoining corridor, clad completely in bright blue. Orla thought he had a clever, charming look about him; though for the time being his face was set in a grave mask of seriousness.

"Good Afternoon Jester, whatever is the matter?"

"Pepper wanted me to inform you that Chastity McBee and her friends were fooling around when they should have been doing the laundry."

Orla remembered a trio of maids giggling in the back of the laundry room. The one in the center with mousey brown hair hanging in limp curls pulled back with a gaudy lace ribbon had seemed to be their leader.

"Thank you Jester," Lady Turnkey responded, smoothing her skirts in a dignified manner. "Tell Pepper that I'll have a word with the maids tonight about shirking their duties. That should set them in line at least for a little while."

"I only wish the situation were that simple," Jester sighed, looking off into the distance.

"What happened Jester?" Lady Turnkey asked, eyes narrowed.

"Well," Jester said, concern dripping from his voice. "They were fooling around and, well long story short the king's new white linen sheets are now a lovely shade of pink."

"WHAT?" Lady Turnkey turned a dark shade of plum. "Why, by the time I get to them!"

With that she picked up her skirts with a furious rustle and scurried down the hallway, her heels clickety-clacking frantically on the cobblestone. Before rounding the bend, she called over her shoulder, "Jester! Be a lad and show Ms. Sinead around will you?" And with that she bustled away.

"Well that was easier than expected."

Orla turned to see Jester grinning wickedly from ear to ear.

"You lied?" She asked curiously.

Jester looked offended. "Madam! I am no liar! A prankster perhaps, but I have more class than to outright lie to my superior. However, I did help nudge the carnation dye close to the edge of the shelf..."

"Wait! They're actually pink? And you framed a poor girl for doing it?"

Jester shrugged. "She was goofing about, I simply helped the process go in the direction I wanted it to. Besides," Jester said gravely, holding out his arm. "Once you meet her Monstrosity, you'll understand my motives. And it got you away from Lieutenant Turnkey didn't it? Shall we? You look tired my dear."

Orla was too exhausted to object. She took his arm and allowed him to lead her down a flight of steps towards a warm, heavenly smell. Orla sighed in relief at the sight of the kitchen. There were copper pots a bunches of herbs and spices dangling from the ceilings, braids of onions and peppers hanging on the walls, a pot of something wonderful sizzling on the hearth, and best of all: a chair. Orla collapsed in it, letting her traveling pack tumble to the floor.

"Pepper, where are you?" Jester called out.

"Here!" a little voice called from behind a gargantuan cake teetering in the corner. A little skirt was visible behind it.

"What are you doing behind a cake Pepper?" Jester said curiously.

"I was making it for the king's guest, the Duke of Faunsbury. But I seem to have doubled the recipe a bit too much…"

"Here!" Jester caught the edge of the cake, just as it began teetering too much to the left. He helped guide it over to the nearest table, where the servers could deal with it later.

"Oh, poppet you look simply dead."

Orla looked up to see a pretty young maid in a pink and tan frock and a chef's apron peering down at her. Her long black hair was braided with blue flowers down her back.

"This is Pepper, our head cook." Jester said graciously.

Pepper busied herself, twittering around Orla, muttering under her breath. "Poor thing...looks half starved...hmm lets see..ah, got just the thing..."

Orla, who had started to doze off, perked up at the sound of crockery being placed before her.

"Jane went out hunting with their majesties today, she brought back a brace of quail for us."

Orla peered into the bowl to see the lovely roasted meat cooked down with onions and root vegetables. Pepper smiled at the girl's delight, cutting her a thick piece of crusty sourdough bread. Orla had barely murmured thanks before tucking into her first real meal in ages.

"So you wouldn't believe the tizzy Lady Turnkey was in when she passed through here." Pepper said as she served Jester a bowl, moving on to stir another bubbling kettle.

"Yes, those sheets were really pink weren't they?" Jester said innocently, picking at his food with a fork.

Pepper stopped mid stir and rounded on him, hands on her hips. "Jester..." She said warningly.

"What?" He stared at her with puppy eyes.

The two stared at each other, daring the other to break. Finally they both collapsed laughing.

"What," Pepper gasped between peels of laughter. "On Earth did you do Jester?"

"What's going on here?"

Smithy stood in the doorway, sopping wet, with his blond hair plastered ridiculously across his face. Jester and Pepper took one look at him and began howling with laughter once more. Smithy groaned, pushing his hair out of his face and grabbing a bowl. "I came to tell you that we should eat inside anyway because of the rain..."

"I'm sorry lad," Jester said, wiping away a tear as he chuckled. "But it has been quite the eventful day. Ah!" He straightened up, brushed himself off and gave a grandiose, sweeping gesture. "I take that you have met Miss Sinead?"

Orla, who was midway through trying to chomp down a very unladylike bite of quail and bread, froze, unsure of whether to greet him or not on the account that she now resembled a chipmunk. Pepper and Jester collapsed in laughter once more as Smithy merely gave Orla a curious half-smile.

"I have in fact." He said softly and turned to serve himself dinner. "Rake will be in soon." He added lightly as he grabbed a fork.

This immediately silenced Pepper, who went pink and immediately was on her feet, busying herself with slicing more bread. Jester shot Smithy a look and shook his head. Smithy mouthed '_What happened?' _Jester then shook his head as if to say '_Later._'

"What's for dinner Pepper? Smells delicious." A female voice called.

Orla was finally able to swallow the quail she had been working on in time to see a maid with waist length fiery hair in a squire's chain mail. Following her was a tall lanky boy with a precious face who looked rather nervous to be there; he meekly set down a basket of fresh produce and walked silently to get a bowl.

"Jane!" Jester said brightly. He hopped up and skipped over to her. "You must meet the maid who kicked the merchant's sorry rear this morning!"

Jane held out her hand, "Jane Turnkey, squire in training." She smiled, "You are Miss Orla?"

"Yes," Orla shook her hand. "I hear you have quite the riding partner."

"You've heard of Dragon?" Jane said curiously.

"Word stretches far of the warrior maid who rides the great dragon."

At this Jester and Smithy sniggered.

"What?" Orla asked.

"I wouldn't call him great," Jester said, chuckling.

"You might make his great head inflate to the point of exploding." Smithy said grinning.

"When you meet him you'll understand." Jane explained, grabbing a bowl. "Now Jester, would you tell me why my mother is in such a fit?"

Jester's face broke into a wicked grin. "Well if you must know, I was helping out dear Pepper by fetching some tablecloths and wouldn't you know there was Chastity McBee and her little chums horsing around in the laundry room, making quite the fuss. And I suppose I must have moved the bottle of carnation dye towards the edge of the shelf while I was looking for the tablecloths. I guess in the excitement of their little game they must have knocked it over..."

"You didn't!" Pepper gasped. "Jester that wasn't necessary..."

"She was impudent to Jane earlier." Jester said darkly.

"She's always impudent to me." Jane said, smiling a little.

"She was especially rude today!" Jester said. "She said you...you were an impertinent fly-bitten haggard."

Jane looked amused, "That's a new one."

"And goodness knows that no one dare insult _Jane_ while you're around Jester." Smithy said airily, looking at the ceiling.

"Not just Jane," Jester said, his ears turning pink. "They were spreading rumors about Pepper too."

"What rumors?" Jane asked, frowning.

"You must be so tired, Orla dear." Pepper interrupted, dragging Orla out of her chair. "Come along Jane, get her bag."

"But I haven't finished eating..."

"Oh, you're getting a little round about the edges anyway dear."

"What! No I'm not!"

"Just come along dear."

Jane groaned and grabbed Orla's traveling pack, following Pepper out the door.

"Well that was odd..." Smithy said quietly.

…

"It's not much, but it's the only spare room we have at the moment," Pepper opened the door. "We'll get some spare furnishings in the morning to make it a bit more homey." She and Jane stood aside and let Orla explore.

Orla left her old walking boots arranged neatly at the doorway, folding her striped socks and placing them inside. If this were to be a proper living space she might as well keep the floor clean. Her bare toes wiggled on the cool stone floor, brushing the soft braided rag rug that covered the majority of the little room. At one end stood a rather large wardrobe, and at the other a window looked out onto the practice yard.

"Thank you, this is lovely," Orla smiled nervously. "I wager I'll sleep on the rug tonight?"

"Don't be silly dear, we have the box bed." Pepper opened the "wardrobe" to reveal a snug bed tucked inside, already dressed in a warm patchwork quilt.

Orla gave a sigh of relief and went to go collapse onto the bed, but Pepper grabbed her arm, tutting.

"Not so fast little duck, I just laundered those sheets, you're taking a nice bath before you even go near them."

"But-"

"No excuses dear; off we go."

…

"So let me get this straight," Jester said very seriously. "You and Pepper had one of the most glaringly opportune moments for a good snog and you both did _nothing_?"

The lads sat in the hayloft of the stables, sipping October Ale. Smithy chuckled to himself as he sat on one of the many hay piles. His friends were ridiculous. Jester was busy berating Rake on his latest romantic folly. However, Jester was also trying to see how hard it was to drink upside down at the same time. Therefore the fool was hanging by his knees from a wooden beam, trying and failing desperately to reach his still full mug on the floor. Unfortunately for Jester, his arms were a tad to short for this endeavor, so he simply hung there, waving ridiculously back and forth, all the while chastising Rake.

Rake on the other hand sat curled on the floorboards, which was awkward for one so tall and gangly, nursing a mug himself. Poor bloke.

"You don't understand," Rake mumbled sadly. "She looked so frightened, I probably scared the wits out of her. What if she thought I was trying to take advantage of her?" The gardener's eyes went wide in horror of the thought.

"I think she'd be rather happy about that." Jester grinned.

Rake buried his head in his hands, and let out a muffled groan. "She'll never talk to me _again_."

"Don't be daft," Smithy got up, hopping off the hay. He sat next to Rake, patting him on the back. "Of course she'll want to talk to you, she was surprised that's all."

"But now all the stupid maids are talking," Rake muttered bitterly, reaching for his mug. Smithy moved it, knowing that a drunken Rake was far more pitiful than a sad one.

"What are they saying?" He inquired.

"Awful things, they're making all these comments to Pepper as if we were…" Rake looked embarrassed.

"As if you were what?" Smithy cocked his head to the side.

"…lovers." Rake muttered quietly.

Jester giggled. "Lovers? You?"

"Oh sod off," Smithy yanked Jester's arm, causing him to fall face first onto the floorboards.

"Not to seem forward, but could this be a good thing?" Jester groaned as he sat up.

"What?" Rake looked perplexed.

"You can use these rumors as… a conversation starter, an opportunity maybe."

"Where are you going with this?" Smithy said warily.

"Think about it Rake, you've been following Pepper around like a puppy for what four, five years now? Maybe this will help you to let those…unresolved conflicts surface. You know, since it's the talk of the town anyway."

"But what if she doesn't feel the same way-"

"Rake, you are one of the blindest blokes I've met," Jester swiped the gardener's mug, taking a swig. "She's probably swooning over some secret picture of you right now…"

….

"And now he must hate me!" Pepper sobbed.

After the bath had been drawn, Pepper finally opened up to Jane and Orla. Jane was now soothing the poor girl, patting her head. Orla was trying the best she could to sound comforting from behind the bathing screen.

"Come now, Pepper," Jane said. "Why would he hate you? He's the one who fell on you anyway."

"But he's not talking to me! And it is my fault, if hadn't made him trip-"

"Aw Pepper, its not so bad," Orla called from behind the screen. "It's an awkward situation yes, but it happens to people all the time. Don't be hard on yourself."

Pepper sniffed, rubbing her eyes. "Well I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if the maids hadn't seen."

"What has Chastity been saying?" Jane asked, a warning tone in her voice.

"Nothing, well…" Pepper wiped her eyes. "I asked her today if she could handle the dining room setting because I busy and-" Pepper sniffed bitterly. "And she turned to her little friends and said 'Yes Pepper's been quite busy under the gardener lately hasn't she?'"

And with that Pepper burst into tears once more.

"Oh Pepper, she's a rotten one," Jane said, hugging her friend. "You know what? She's just jealous because she couldn't get Rake to ask her to the harvest festival this summer."

Pepper giggled through her tears. "She couldn't get _anyone._ Not Rake, or Gunther, or Ben the new stable boy, or Smithy…"

"Speaking of," Jane turned to the bathing screen. "Orla, how do you know Smithy?"

"Jethro?" Orla shrugged. "He and I were childhood friends. Same village and all that."

"You looked pretty surprised to see him."

"Well I haven't seen him in, oh I don't know, since we were twelve maybe. Right before he came to work here and I went to the mage's guild in Themes."

….

"…Childhood friends, nothing more Jester." Smithy sighed, leaning back against the wall of the stable, preparing for the usual Jester interrogation.

"Childhood friends who give each other expensive pieces of jewelry?" Jester asked, not buying.

"It was her birthday, and we were both leaving the village for our careers. I didn't know the next time I'd see her." Smithy replied coolly.

Jester gave him a smarmy eyebrow raise. Rake looked expectantly at Smithy.

"Ok, so maybe I did fancy her a little," Smithy said quickly, taking another sip of ale.

Jester laughed triumphantly, "Yes! I knew it! Top me off, there's a lad." Smithy grinned and poured half his mug into Jester's.

"Have you ever kissed her Smithy?" Rake asked, extremely happy not to be the center of conversation.

"Ah, just what I was thinking Rake! Great minds think alike!" Jester was having way too much fun with this.

Smithy groaned, sliding down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. "Only once…" he finally answered.

Jester broke into one of his best wicked grins.

"But we were ten, Jester!" Smithy quickly finished. "It wasn't that much anyway, her mum dragged me off their property by my ear, and wouldn't let me see her for a week. That woman hated me, seemed to think that half the world was too low for her, let alone her daughter."

Jester simply smirked at him, clear plotting evil plots in his jester hat.

"Anyway, I'm just glad to see her again." Smithy said shrugging.

"As, we all were." Jester stretched. "That was quite an excitement in the courtyard today."

Rake looked at Jester, quizzically. "I didn't see you there in the crowd Jester, where were you?"

"Oh, in the back, between Jane's legs."

"WHAT!"

"Well, sort of…"

….

Mojo: Well that was highly inapro-pro on Jester's part. Stay tuned mortals…Apurrrrrrr


	4. A Toad, eh?

Hey guys, sorry I haven't posted in forever! But here it is, the next chippety-chapter!

Chapter Four: A Toad, eh?

Settling into the castle took a couple weeks to get used to. Every morning Orla awoke and tiptoed to the window to watch the pinky-peach sunrise bleed across the sky. Or rather, she liked to watch Jester and Jane on the far wall as they watched the sunrise. Or rather, she liked to smirk as Jester watched Jane watch the sunrise. Anyway the sunrise was still pretty.

Orla's work varied. Officially she was Lady Turnkey's "Odd Jobs" officer, which translated to "picking up any slack left by other lazy maids" officer. Whether it was scrubbing the missed spots on the windows, aiding Pepper in the kitchen, or redecorating the banquet hall; Orla became Lady Turnkey's "Magyk Eraser." Today it was a particularly large smelly load of laundry that had been conveniently forgotten for the past few weeks. The smell was so bad that she had to take it to the courtyard for fear of passing out. Orla tied up her skirts, put on a headcloth and, got to work lugging the washtub out, drawing water, and dumping the horrid clothes in. Squinting in the morning sun, Orla wiped her brow and held her palm forward over the basin.

"_Swigen, chwyrlïo, a berwi, ffres a glân." _The water began to churn and froth, steam rising in thick clouds. Orla added rose oil and lie to the foaming basin and stepped back as sweet smelling bubbles erupted from the surface.

"Very nice, plan on adding any toads to your brew?"

Chastity McBee and her friends had arrived. Orla had taken special lengths to avoid them for the past week, not wanting to invoke "Her Monstrosity." But alas, there stood Chastity, limp mousy curls tied up in an awful orange satin and lace ribbon. She was accompanied by two equally snot nosed compatriots.

"I heard that there was a witch working in Kippernium Castle," Chastity sneered. "But I hadn't had the chance to see your hocus pocus in person yet."

"Funny," Orla said lightly, adding more rose oil to the tub. "I heard that there was a witch working in Kippernium Castle too. But I haven't had the chance to see just how ugly her gob really is."

Chastity turned blotchy and red; she stomped towards Orla, her curls swinging with limp fury.

"You'd better watch yourself _witch,_" She spat at Orla. "Or there's going to be some very nasty repercussions-"

"And you'd better watch yourself," Orla took a step towards Chastity, taking her by surprise. "Because you're right my brew does look like it needs a toad. Care to volunteer?"

"You…you," Chastity stuttered, eyes wide. "You wouldn't!"

"Would I?" Orla said, crossing her arms menacingly. "You'd make a lovely amphibian."

Chastity stumbled backwards, pushing her friends in front of her.

"You'd better watch yourself! The likes of you belong in the Goldrath's Circus freak show!" She called, very unthreateningly from behind them, before dashing away, her puzzled friends following.

"Very Impressive."

Orla turned and jumped. The great green dragon sat on the far wall, looking very amused.

"Dragon." Orla nodded as she approached him.

"Mage." He returned, descending from the wall with a rumble.

They stared at one another, each sizing the other up, putting on their best stoic faces.

"Toad, eh?"

"Yup."

Unable to hold it in any more, the two of them burst into peals of laughter.

"Oww, did you see 'er face?" Dragon roared. "Perfect!"

"The truth is I'm crap at transformation incantations anyway," Orla giggled uncontrollably.

"A bluffer, eh?" Dragon chuckled, wiping his eyes. "You 'ave a tail load of spunk, shortlife. I like you; what's your name?"

"Orla Sinead," She daintily held the corners of her apron, sweeping a curtsy.

"And I assume you're quaking in your little mortal shoes from fear of my brute strength aren't you?" Dragon asked examining his claws lazily.

"More fascinated than frightened," Orla answered.

Dragon shrugged. "Good enough, as long as I'm dazzling."

…..

"Do keep up dearie, we can't be late for the princess' fitting can we?"

Orla had been working in the castle for two weeks now and she still couldn't figure how Lady Turnkey moved so fast in such stuffy skirts. She sped up to her best power walk, because apparently "running was not proper decorum for a maid of Kippernium." Orla was very eager to meet the little majesty though. Jane talked well of her, and apparently the poor thing had been trapped in her chambers for weeks to complete her finishing lessons before the arrival of the Court of Hispania.

"Now, I expect you to keep your manners as usual, the princess is very stressed and is eager to finish her ….er, finishing." Lady Turnkey turned to open the door.

Inside was chaos. The princess stood in the center of the room, perched on a wood block as half a dozen seamstresses twittered around like rather annoying, brightly colored birds. The princess did not look eager at all; she stood proud, fixating all of her energy on the ceiling.

"Good Morrow Princess Lavinia," Lady Turnkey swept a deep curtsy, beckoning Orla to do the same. "How is the fitting?"

"Progressing as directed," Lavinia said politely through gritted teeth.

"I have brought someone who can perhaps speed up the process," Lady Turnkey beckoned Orla forward.

"Your majesty," Orla curtsied. "Jane has told me so much about you."

The princess gave her a hopeful smile; her eyes pleaded for help. Orla straightened and turned to the other women.

"My ladies, I request that the princess and I be left in private." Orla smiled to the surrounding seamstresses. Lady Turnkey helped usher them out the door. "Yes, even you, milady."

Lady Turnkey frowned. "Maid Orla-"

"I mean no offense, I simply work best without prying eyes." Orla shot her best smile.

Lady Turnkey gave a huff before strutting out the door, slamming it in a dignified manner.

The princess collapsed off the stool.

"Your majesty!" Orla ran to help her up.

"You have no idea how long they've had me up there," Princess Lavinia groaned. "Thank you…"

"Here, let's get you a seat," Orla pulled a squashy armchair towards them, and helped the princess to it. She then grabbed a long cold tea tray that sat on a nearby table.

"That was supposed to be breakfast, but the seamstresses were eager to start," Princess Lavinia looked sadly at the now unappetizing egg-in-a-basket and sausages. She glanced at Orla. "I swear their trying to starve me."

Orla chuckled and set the tray next to the princess. "_Ailgynhesu, adnewyddu, yn rhy blasus."_

Lavinia gasped as the sausages began sizzling, the teapot let out a whistle, and the edges of the toast became golden and crisp once more.

"You're the new mage!" Lavinia said, excitedly.

"Eat your majesty," Orla handed Lavinia a fork and walked to go pick up various pieces of fabric strewn around the room.

"You can help me!" Lavinia ignored the food, following Orla.

"That's what I'm doing majesty," Orla said politely. "Now eat, and I'll finish your dress."

"No, you can help me with the prince-"

Orla sighed and sat next to the tray. "Sit, little majesty. Eat, and we'll talk."

Lavinia eagerly sat and took a hearty bite of sausage and egg.

"Now, what is going on?" Orla leaned forward, pouring tea.

"Well," Lavinia said through a mouthful of sausage. "The Court of Hispania is coming in a week or so, and the king is bringing his son, Domingo Mateo, de la Cámara de Montoya."

"Quite the mouthful," Orla sipped her tea.

"And, as soon as Lady Turnkey found out she had me locked in my chambers and it was lessons, and dance, and etiquite, and all this rubbish!" Lavinia motioned to the folds of her dress. "And it was the Spanish prince this, and…and.." Lavinia started crying hysterically. Orla quickly took the little princess in her arms. Rocking her back and forth.

"I'm n-not y-yet thirteen," Lavinia sobbed. "I-I-I don't w-want to get m-m-married."

"Easy there, majesty," Orla soothed her. "Your parents don't seem the type to force a marriage. If you don't like the prince there's no reason to marry him."

Lavinia nodded, sniffing. They sat on the floor for a while like that, Lavinia sniffling occasionally.

"And you know what?" Orla said finally. "I think Lady Turnkey is just sad that she can't go around matchmaking for Jane-"

Lavinia giggled weakly. "She tried, Jane went bonkers."

"So she's trying to act as a mother through you to make herself less sad."

Lavinia sat up, wiping her eyes. "Well she can't, I like my mum the way she is."

"Right you are, you'll be fine majesty," Orla grinned and helped Princess Lavinia to her feet. "Now let's look at that dress."

The princess stood on the stool once more and Orla circled her. The dress was a sea grey satin with bell sleeves, a tight corset base, and a seed pearl trim. It looked beautiful, but meant for someone twice Lavinia's age.

"What's your favorite color, Princess?"

"Lavender."

"Right, hold still, this may tickle."

Orla raised her palms over the princess' head. "_Gwehyddu brethyn am waed brenhinol, gadewch i'r dywysoges ddod o hyd i ei chariad."_

The seams of the dress began to glow as lavender bled outward through the fabric like a sunrise over a hill. The simple scallop pattern on the stomacher became a myriad of powder blue and periwinkle flowers. The border became a silver vine, enveloping the seed pearls.

The princess squealed in delight tackling Orla in a little, but surprisingly powerful bear hug.

"Come on," Lavinia giggled. "Let's go show Lady Turnkey."

…

"So let's get this straight, you went completely against my mother's wishes and she was _okay with it?_"

Orla was helping clean up the kitchens from the royal family's supper and prepare one for the 'Courtyard Bunch' as Pepper called it. Pepper was slicing leftover roast for sandwiches and Jane was hanging upside down from one of the rafters, desperately trying to reach a glass of water to see if she could drink it upside down.

"Well, my alternative still involved a pretty dress," Orla grinned as she put away the last set of cutlery. "How's it going with your mum? If that's not to forward of me I mean."

Jane attempted a shrug, but found it difficult with her arms hanging haphazardly. "Eh, we're alright I guess. She's still sore that I haven't accepted any callers yet. Speaking of…"

Orla turned to see Rake standing awkwardly in the doorway with a basket of fresh produce. Orla cleared her throat loudly in Pepper's direction. The cook looked up and immediately went pink. She looked at Orla in panic. Orla sighed and jerked her head in Rake's direction. Pepper hesitated for a moment, looking to Jane for help. The young squire simply shot her an "I-ain't-doing-nothing" look and resumed her quest for the elusive water glass. Pepper finally walked over to the door. Rake looked nervous enough to pee himself.

"I…er…I… uh, here." He handed Pepper the basket.

"Thanks," she whispered, looking pointedly at the floor.

Orla rolled her eyes.

"So, um… dinner will be in a few then?" Rake blushed at the sight of Pepper blushing.

"Yeah," she murmured.

Rake nodded before awkwardly backing out of the room, tripping over many miscellaneous things in the process.

Jane turned and glared at Pepper. "What was that?"

"Nothing…" Pepper mumbled, sorting through the produce basket.

"Exactly, how is he supposed to know how you feel if you to don't say a bliddy word to each other?"

"But Jane-"

"Don't you 'but Jane' me! You know how much I hate mushy stuff; this is _killing me!_ Just snog the boy and get it over with."

"I wish I could talk to him, I really do. I just freeze up every time I see him now…" Pepper sat down distressed.

"Well what would give you confidence?" Orla offered, elbowing Jane in the gut.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not one of those gorgeous dolls you see in town…"

"That's it!" Jane exclaimed, swinging down off her perch. "There's a big market day in town this coming Saturday. We'll get you something that'll snatch Rake up so fast he won't see it coming."

"Like what exactly?" Orla asked, amused.

"Like perfume, or something else really girly."

"How original."

"Aw, sock it Orla."

"I guess we could try that," Pepper said quietly.

"There's the spirit!" Jane said, patting her on the back.

"We'll help you dear," Orla said. "You'll have him under your spell in no time."

"Fine it's settled," Pepper said quickly, eager to change the subject. "You two round up the lads and tell them that supper's ready."

…..

Smithy was in focus. The sword for Prince Cuthbert's coming of age ceremony was coming together nicely. Turn, swing, clang, turn, swing, clang.

"Jethro…"

He looked up to see Orla at the entrance to the forge.

"Pepper says its time for dinner."

"Right, thanks."

Orla turned to leave.

"Hey."

She stopped, Smithy grinned at her.

"How come you've been here for two weeks, and this is the first time you choose to come see me?"

Orla smiled. "Well you have been rather busy."

"Too busy for an old friend?"

"Oh, I dunno," Orla groaned. "It just feels weird, I haven't seen you in forever."

"Yeah, I guess. How 'bout a hug then?"

"How 'bout no."

"You're heartless, woman."

"No, you're just covered in sweat, grime, and soot."

"Touché," Smithy chuckled, putting his hammer down. "Handshake then?"

"Agreed."

They shook hands, laughing.

"Ugh, you should have seen Pepper and Rake earlier," Orla said as they walked back to the kitchen. "Those two are a mess."

"Tell me about it, Rake's been walking around like a kicked puppy for days now. Jester and I have been trying to talk to him, but he is a lost case. He just needs to snog her and get over it." Smithy groaned.

"Truth at its finest my friend."

"How 'bout that hug then?"

"Nope, you still smell disgusting."

…..

She breathed in the night air like cool mint tea. How she ached for and hated this, crouched on the windowsill, waiting for the most opportune gust of cold wind. The new moon left the sky black and murky as cast iron. There. She felt it in the tips of her fingers; the wind was here. Sleek, inky wings caught the updraft, carrying her off the sill and away from the little lights of the castle. She groaned as they tried a few sweeps, taking her ever upward. Climbing, climbing over the rich, velvet valley and the ancient, all-seeing peaks of the mountains. It had been too long; she was sore. But here she was, baring her teeth to the moonless sky and drinking in the relief of freedom.

…..

Mojo: Yes, mortals, we are still writing. Apuuurrrrrrr.


	5. Digging Deeper

Hey guys! Sorry That I haven't posted in forever! But thank you for all the positive reviews; they mean so much! Alas Mojo is at my parents' house today, but he sends his love! Enjoy!

Chapter Five: Digging Deeper

"Dragon, do you think I'm fat?"

"I always think you're fat Jane, why?"

"Dragon!"

Jane and Dragon were on their morning patrol, soaring over the peaceful valley-side and its sleepy inhabitants. In all honesty, Jane could barely keep her eyes on the ground; they had seen this same expanse of green so many times.

"Really Jane, why do you ask?"

"Well Jester and Pepper-"

"Aw there's your problem Jane, you're runnin' on the word o' two little shortlifes," Dragon groaned. "Naw, they were teasin'."

"Thanks, you big lizard."

"No prob, bandylegs."

A few more minutes passed of quiet flying before Jane spoke out again.

"Ugh," Jane groaned. "Morning patrol is so _dull_!"

"Well, Jane…er..I have been meaning to tell you…"

"Did you give one of Old Jeeve's cows a heart attack again?"

"What? No! You'll never let that go will you?"

"Ugh, just spill green lips!"

"Well…" Dragon paused, as if unsure of himself, which was hardly ever. "Can't be too certain, but I was out flyin' last night. Nowhere near Ol' Jeeve's cows mind you. I thought I saw…"

"What did you see Dragon?" Jane was now genuinely curious.

"Somethin'. Somethin' large, with wings. Not as impressive as myself, but still quite sizable, larger than any bird." Dragon looked pensive.

"Did you get a closer look?" Jane asked, excited.

"It was new moon last night, there was no light to speak of," Dragon sighed. "When I tried flyin' closer the thing disappeared."

"Well we won't give up!" Jane said brightly. "Dragon, this is fantastic!"

"I just hope, its somethin' worth gettin' worked up over," Dragon said glumly.

"It will, I swear it! Now let us down, time for breakfast."

…

Rake had woken up early that morning to prune his radish patch and mull his mind over. The cogs in his head worked furiously as he knelt in the damp earth pulling the nasty little weeds away from his precious plants. Yes, today would be the day. Today he would talk to Pepper and smooth this whole mess over. If only he knew what to say. Rake looked up from his work, glancing at the window into the kitchens. There, Pepper was hard at work preparing the royal breakfasts with her helpers. Rake quickly looked back to his radishes as she walked towards the window for some ground cloves. Rake sighed to himself. There weren't many flowers to be spared on the castle grounds, what with the creeping coolness that grew more and more confident each day. A bouquet was out of the question. Except maybe…

Rake wandered over to his herb patch; he had an idea…

…..

Pepper was forming little patties of spiced meat for sausage when Rake came in with the morning produce. He felt his heart flutter as she gave him a quick glance and a small smile. He walked over and placed his basket next to her on the counter and cleared his throat. Pepper looked up at him, her cheeks pink.

"That's er…" Rake felt the cogs in his head jumble every wrong way. What was it he was going to say? _Come on lad, say something. _"That's…um…a nice apron you're wearing today Pepper."

"Thank you Rake," Pepper peeped nervously. _Keep strong old girl,_ She thought.

"I'll see you at breakfast then," Rake said quickly, feeling awkward and gangly all of a sudden.

"Alright," Pepper said, wiping her hands on a towel. Rake turned to leave when he felt a soft hand tap his shoulder. Pepper stood on her very tiptoes and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. She then muttered a quick thank you and hurried off to go knead some crumpet dough before he could see that she was turning red. Rake felt his cheek burning where she had kissed him. He skipped from the kitchen with a spring in his step and a goofy smile plastered to his face.

…

"Sorry, I'm late Pepper," Orla rushed into the kitchen, tying her apron.

"Oh, it's quite alright," Pepper said, rolling out the dough. She took out a flower shaped cutter and began pressing out little crumpet shapes. "If you could finish the sausages dear."

"_Padell ffrio," _Orla held out her hands, a cast iron pan soared off the top shelf and flew to its place at the hearth. Orla then went about finishing the last few sausages. "Rake looked happy when he passed."

"Did he?" Pepper looked up hopefully. Orla raised her eyebrows, Pepper flushed.

"That he did," Orla smiled. "Look, he even brought a little bunch of herbs with the vegetables today."

"Really?" Pepper frowned walking slowly over to the basket. She picked up the pretty little bundle, bound with red string. "Thyme, bay leaf, chive, tarragon, rosemary…"

"What is it?" Orla asked and she placed the first few sausage patties in the skillet.

"Bouquet garni," Pepper said smiling to herself.

"What?" Orla looked up from her cooking.

"This is a bouquet garni," Pepper fiddled with the string. "You tie certain herbs together and use them to flavor soups and such. It's a French method."

"Well, well, well," Orla looked over Pepper's shoulder. "Even as winter approaches he still manages to bring you a bouquet. And a French one at that."

Pepper giggled, placing it on the window with her other herbs. A young serving boy entered the kitchen.

"'Ello Miss Peppa," he piped. "The king 'as awoken and will be s'pectin' 'is breakfast with 'is family in fifteen minutes."

"Oh dear!" Pepper jumped, running back to her crumpets in a tizzy. "Oh, dear, oh, dear…"

…

Pepper and Orla groaned as they sat down to breakfast with the gang.

"Right," Smithy smiled. "What's the record this time?"

"One platter of sausages, two platters of crumpets _with _honey butter, a large bowl of candied apples 'n nuts with cream, and two fried tomatoes," Orla sighed, pouring herself a large cup of milk. "Fifteen minutes."

"Those household spells of yours are really something," Pepper said, distributing leftover sausage and toast to the table.

"Pepper," Jester quipped through a bite of toast. "Is that a sprig of rosemary behind your ear?"

Rake looked up from his sausage a little too quickly. Pepper simply flushed and turned to give Smithy an obnoxiously large helping of toast. Smithy looked puzzled at the toast on his plate.

"Thanks…?" He glanced at Jester who was wielding an ever-growing smirk. Smithy rolled his eyes at him and gave Pepper a weak smile of appreciation. "I… forgot how much I liked toast."

"Give me twice that Pepper! I'm on a roll today!" Jane happily plopped down next to Jester and began eating his food ravenously.

"Hey now!" Jester hid his plate from her, chuckling. "And what, pray tell is the source of our ladyship's joy?"

"Dragon and I have our first lead in months!" Jane answered happily, still trying to steal Jester's food.

"First lead on what?" Orla asked, taking a bite of toast and sausage as the other two continued to wrestle.

"Well," Jane laughed, finally appeased as Pepper swooped down to distribute the remaining food on the squire's plate. "Thanks Pepper. Last night Dragon was out flying-"

"Searching for cows to woo no doubt-AGH!" Jester interjected, earning him a bop on the head from Jane.

"-And he saw a great flying thing, far larger than any bird."

"Do you think it might be one of his kind?" Smithy asked, still trying to figure out how he was to consume his gratuitous portion of toast.

"He didn't know," Jane replied. "He said that it was far smaller than he was, despite still being of reasonable size. Besides, it was too dark to tell anyway, new moon last night and all."

"I might have just the thing Jane," Jester said. "Sir Theodore and I just came upon an old manuscript in the castle library; it's a lore of super natural creatures. They have two sizable chapters on known dragon species."

"That sounds brilliant!" Jane quickly wolfed down the rest of her food and gave Jester a quick hug. Orla saw his eyes soften at the sudden embrace. Jane then took off running towards the practice ring, calling over her shoulder. "I'll meet you in the library after my sparring practice with the wee pages this afternoon!"

"Looks like someone's eager to get Jane alone," Orla said lightly, gathering the dirty dishes from the table. "Really Jethro? If you're going to take that much toast, at least eat all of it."

Both Jester and Smithy spluttered in protest as Orla took the dishes back to the kitchen.

"I'd better help her," Pepper said, gathering the remaining crockery.

"You hardly ate any breakfast Pepper," Rake looked up at her.

"I'll find time to eat, I always do. Besides, the lunch preparations can't wait." Her hand brushed Rake's as she collected his silverware. Rake felt his tummy do a flip. Pepper simply smiled and followed Orla back inside.

"So I take it that things are better with Pepper," Smithy said. Jester slid across the bench with a little "wheee!"and bumped into Rake.

"Tell us you old dog!" Jester threw a piece of Smithy's toast at Rake. The gardener dodged the crusty projectile, blushing.

"I brought her a bouquet garni this morning. She kissed my cheek," Rake rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"And then what happened?"

"Er…and then she made crumpets?"

"Wrong!"

"AGH!" Rake panicked as Jester fired another onslaught of toast.

Having exhausted his ammunition, Jester put his face in his hands, groaning.

"That was the perfect time to steal a good snog, lad! Another moment gone! What I wouldn't give…"

"What you wouldn't give for what?" Smithy asked innocently.

"Shut up and eat your toast, forge boy."

…

"Alright, Princess, just stand still and we'll be done for the day."

Orla's gown for Princess Lavinia had been a bigger hit than expected. Lady Turnkey now wanted Lavinia to have an entirely new wardrobe for the Prince's visit. After finishing in the kitchen, Orla had been summoned immediately to the royal chambers for fitting after fitting, as the royal seamstresses looked on ravenously, trying to absorb as many secrets to magic textiles as possible. Orla was currently working on a rich, stormy gray gown, spangled with silver stars. The shiny silver thread was giving her trouble at the hem. Orla was tired. Orla was hungry. Orla had skipped lunch to work on a pretty sweet pea frock sprigged with pink blossoms. She just wanted her little room and her box bed.

"Orla dear, have you finished that last gown?" Lady Turnkey called from the wardrobe where she was color coding everything.

"Almost done m'am," Orla called back through gritted teeth. She turned to the hem. "C'mon you stupid thread, _cydweithredu gyda mi-"_

"Lady Turnkey?"

Smithy stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding a little wooden box. He felt sooty and sweaty, surrounded by all the effervescent feminine finery.

"Ah, yes!" Lady Turnkey bustled over and took the little box, opening it. "Perfect, and the buckles are silver you said?"

"Yes m'am," Smithy noticed Orla kneeling by the hem of her final gown. She pantomimed hanging herself. Smithy bit back a smile, returning to respectable stoicism by the time Lady Turnkey looked up from the shoe buckles.

"These'll do quite nicely," Lady Turnkey said, returning the box to Smithy. "You have time to attach them?"

"Yes m'am," Smithy answered professionally, he took the buckles and walked over to where the princess stood and politely asked her to remove her slippers.

"I thought you were a Smithy, not a cobbler," The princess commented, obviously annoyed to be kept any longer from her afternoon horse ride. Orla couldn't blame her; Lady Turnkey had kept her trapped in her chambers all day.

"Why don't you go princess?" Orla looked up, jerking her head towards the door. "I can finish the hem without you."

"Thank you!" Princess Lavinia sighed in relief. She leapt from the stool and scurried to the dressing screen, a flock of warbly attendents following her. She momentarily ran back, thanked Smithy for the buckles, and returned to the dressing area.

Smithy sat next to Orla. She handed him the slippers and began cleaning up the scraps of cloth that had strewn themselves across the floor during the dressmaking extravaganza. Smithy took out his own thread and needle set, setting the slippers on the ground.

"So how long has she kept you here?" He asked.

"Since half-nine."

"Blazes…"Smithy chuckled, picking up a slipper.

"Thank you, Orla!" The princess had returned in her riding gown. She passed Orla her silver gown and skipped gleefully put the door, a gaggle of servants following. Orla sighed and turned to see Smithy pull a slightly squashed linen bundle from his vest.

"Here…"

Orla stopped and smiled. He was the same. The same hair that half stood on edge like a wee tyke. The same quiet eyes that betrayed the sliver of a worry that she might refuse his gift. The same hands that offered her a tart or a pasty when she had been trapped from one of her mother's spelling lessons or posture practices. The same hushed voice, afraid of getting caught.

She took the bundle. It was a small wrapped sandwich and a pear. She loved pears. Orla ruffled his hair, and returned to her seat on the floor.

"Well your needlework has been quite the rage," Smithy said, continuing his work on the slipper. "I've not seen Lady Turnkey so excited since last chestnut season."

"Is it true she's bonkers for them?" Orla asked through a mouthful of pear.

"Oh you'll learn Orla," Smithy chuckled. "The two things that Lady Turnkey is crazy for are roasted chestnuts and a good game of cards."

"And magic dresses apparently," Orla added, groaning.

"Are you not satisfied with them?" Smithy cocked an eyebrow at her. Orla shrugged, opting to move on to her sandwich rather than answer him.

"Well," Smithy said as he carefully stitched the buckle onto the soft grey leather of the slipper. "For what its worth, I think they're fantastic."

"Thanks lad," Orla replied, sighing as she set down her sandwich and returned to gown. "I dunno, Jethro… It's just not as glamorous as…"

"Its not what you expected when you left for the Mages Guild?" Smithy finished for her.

Orla nodded.

"Why don't you apprentice for the castle Wizard? You could get your Advanced Magyk License and-"

"I'm taking a break from my studies for a while," Orla interjected.

"But you just said-"

"I just need time to mull my choices over," Orla once more turned her interest to hemming the gown. "Ah, that was the spell! _Rhowch y ffin cadarn a chryf._"

The silver thread finally cooperated, snaking in and out of the stormy fabric. Orla swiftly picked up the finished dress and set it to hang with the others. She turned and gave a quick flick of the wrist.

"_Glan'hau."_

Spools, pins, and needles flew from the floor and back to their compartments in the royal sewing box. She went to grab her things.

"Orla..." Smithy looked worried. Orla ruffled his hair and rushed out the door.

"I'd love to stay and chat Jethro, but Pepper's probably up to her elbows in work. Gotta run! Thanks for the food!"

And with that she was gone. Smithy picked up the other slipper and stared at it intently. Something was odd about Orla. Something was out of place…

…

"Alright, here it is…"

Jester blew the dust bunnies from the manuscript and walked to an ancient oaken table in the center of the royal library. He and Jane sat together on the bench pouring over the fragile parchment.

"Let's see…" Jester flipped carefully through the pages. "Faeries, Goblins, Mixed Species, Sea Monsters, and…Dragons! Here we are."

"We're looking for something nocturnal," Jane said, scanning the pages. "And fairly small by dragon standards."

"Hmmm…" Jester read through the list. "Bucklund Clubtail, Eastern Mandarin Long, oh there's Dragon's kind! _'The Valley Welsher is an interesting creature. They form life-pairs rather than choosing a new mate each season. Young are hatched in the fall rather than the springtime, allowing their scaly hides to thicken and strengthen over the first winter. Being stout and sturdy in stature yet herbaceous in diet, they are often found eating __**alongside**__ cows rather than devouring them.'_"

Jane doubled over laughing. "Well," She wiped a tear from her eye. "At least we know where his interesting taste in cattle comes from. Keep reading."

"Gladly," Jester grinned. "_'Although they are reasonably intelligent and capable of human speech, relations with the Valley Welsher are strained due to their stubbornness and partiality to practical jokes and crude humor_.'"

Jane thought her sides would split she was laughing so hard.

"This is too good! Wait till green-lips hears!"

Jester continued to leaf through the manuscript.

"Some of these night beasties don't sound very pleasant," He grimaced. "Here's one that steals your dreams and leaves you with nothing but nightmares. This one has a special taste for live human flesh. And then there's the old Moon-Cruncher who steals livestock and leaves the remains on your roof. And- UGH!"

"What? What is it?" Jane leaned over.

"This one hides under people's beds and licks its victims' toes whiles they're trying to sleep!"

"Ewwww!"

"Yeah, but no worries. It's only found in Bulgaria."

"Anything else?"

"Hmmm," Jester flipped a few more pages. "There. I think we've found your mystery dragon Jane. The Norwegian Nightfury: _'Native to the icy Nordic seas, this mysterious beast has had little to none known contact with human beings. Nightfuries are built for speed, rather than brute strength, using their smaller, lighter frames to easily outfly bigger predators. They have a distinctive purple-blue flame, which they use with deadly accuracy if necessary. Little else is known about Nightfuries, though it is assumed that their diet is either herbaceous or seafood based seeing as there has been no livestock reported missing before or after sightings_.'"

"Interesting," Jane pondered. "But what would a Norwegian dragon be doing in Kippernia?"

"Maybe they migrate south for the winter, or perhaps it got lost at sea," Jester offered.

"Maybe, but this complicates things…" Jane sat back, her brow furrowed. "We don't know if it can communicate with us. And even if it's capable of speech, what's to say it'll speak our tongue?"

"Better tell Dragon to brush up on his Norse if he wants to make contact." Jester closed the manuscript, setting it back on the shelf.

"Yes, well thank you for that Jester," Jane gave him a smile. "Now I have chores to take care of before I have Sir Ivan on my tail."

"No problem Jane," Jester watched her leave. "Always a pleasure." He slumped back down on the bench. _Another opportunity lost old lad_.

…

"I swear, where is that girl?"

Orla sat quietly in the corner peeling turnips as Pepper paced around the kitchen in a huff. Mercia Lovelace, the youngest maid on staff was missing from kitchen duty.

"I've seen her sitting with Chastity's lot these days," Orla said lightly.

"Oh, please tell me she didn't go and become Chastity's lackey…" Pepper fretted as she scurried around the kitchen. "I can't think of anything worse for the poor girl…"

The doors to the kitchen opened, Orla looked up to see a young lad with a sour smile and a horrible bowl-cut dragging a giggling girl in by the hand. Mercia Lovelace realized where she had been brought and immediately sobered at the sight of her boss. The boy followed Mercia's gaze and scowled when he saw Pepper.

"Ah, hello cook," He sneered, putting an arm around Mercia's shoulders. Mercia looked nervously from him to Pepper.

"Good Evening, your majesty," Pepper curtsied stiffly. "I'd appreciate if you'd not distract my staff."

"Nonsense," Cuthbert scoffed. "You're working her too hard. I'm giving her the hard earned break she deserves. Right, Mercia?"

Mercia looked like a rabbit in a trap.

"I…er…" She looked at her feet. "Yes, your majesty. You're very kind."

"There you have it Pepper," The prince smirked. "Shall we, Mercia?"

Mercia gave Pepper a look as if to apologize, and then turned to leave. The prince patted her behind as he followed. Orla watched as Pepper's face turned an angry pallid white. She set back to work, each movement now having a new furious purpose. Orla caught bits of ranting under Pepper's breath.

"Why that...pompous...don't even...overblown…"

"I take it that that was Prince Cuthbert?" Orla asked lightly.

"Oh, how could you tell?" Pepper replied hotly.

"Jane tells me that you two are not on the best of terms," Orla continued.

"That's the polite way to put it," Pepper said, tenderizing the life out of an unfortunate piece of beef. "Ever since he was little he's been moseying into my kitchen, taking food, making a mess. Then as soon as he hit fourteen and realized he had a willy, he became petticoat crazed. Now he chases my maids, trying to get at their skirts and blames me as the tyrant boss."

"Ah…" Orla brought the finished turnips over to the pump to rinse, thinking of a way to cheer up Pepper.

"Well," Orla set the turnips on the counter next to Pepper and put an arm around her friend. " You needn't worry about him. Remember, tomorrow's market day, eh? And little Prince Berty isn't the only petticoat crazed lad in the palace."

Pepper's ears turned pink. Orla smiled.

"There'll be dancing and food and fancy soap; it'll be fun! Chin up!"Orla said happily. "You'll knock him off his feet!"

"Oh that'd be lovely as linen Orla, but I'm still not sure if he feels-"

"Pepper!" Orla exclaimed, exasperated. "He's so incredibly obvious!"

"Yeah, he keeps one of your kerchiefs under his pillow."

"What!?"

Jester was standing in the doorway, examining his nails. He looked up at them straight faced.

"Not jesting, I swear. In fact it's a tad bit creepy." Jester walked somberly through the kitchen, picking up a platter of food. "Where do you need this, ladies?"

"Well that's a first," Orla crossed her arms, amused. "What cold wind has blown in the broken fool?"

"Ugh, nothing…" Jester groaned. "There's just an exuberant amount of repressed sexual tension-"

"WHAT?"

"Now Pepper, I wasn't directly alluding to you but now that you mention- Agh! No! Not the turnips! Put the turnips down! I didn't mean it Pepper-Agh!"

…

Mojo: M'yes, I maybe trapped in this house that smells of laundry detergent and gumbo, but that does not prevent me from sponsoring mine human's story. Apurrrrr…


	6. Market Day (part 1)

Hey Folks! Sorry it's been so long! Thank you so much for your reviews and support! Keep 'em coming!

Question for the readers, what's you're favorite JatD Pairing? Mine's Jane and Jester.

Chapter 6: Market Day (Part One)

Jane was going to obliterate something.

"Oh come now dear, it's not that bad."

The lasses were getting ready for the big market day in Jane's room. Pepper was attempting to comb the knots out of Jane's unruly hair. Jane for her part had been trying to sit still, but that proved to be difficult when it felt as if someone was trying to rip your brains clean out of your skull.

"I'll get that Pepper," Orla stepped out from behind the dressing screen, fastening hoops with little glass beads to her ears. She reached in her pocket and handed Pepper a small blue bottle. "Here's that witch-hazel face soap I promised. You go wash up, I'll deal with the lady knight."

Jane pouted. Pepper hurried over to the washbowl to fix herself up, humming lightly. Orla fingered through Jane's untamed waist length mane.

"Let's try…_modrwyau nryswch copr rhad ac am ddim."_

Jane's tangled nest of hair seemed to tighten and unravel at the same time, within seconds the frizzy mess gave way to a tousled mass of glossy curls. Pepper turned with a little squeal.

"Oh, poppet! You look lovely as linen!"

"Thanks Orla," Jane breathed, still in shock herself. She gazed in the mirror, gingerly raising a hand to check if it was real.

"No problem! That's the first time it's actually worked."

"…What?"

"Yes, the last time I tried a similar spell it took me a good hour to calm the girl down before I could change her hair back from green to-"

"On second thought, it's probably best that I didn't know."

…...

"Orla!"

Orla, Pepper and Jane turned as the princess ran to meet them in the courtyard, a rabble of maids in her wake.

"Yes, little majesty?" Orla curtsied.

"I wanted to say thank you for the lovely dresses," Princess Lavinia smiled shyly. "I made you this."

It was a faerie crown, woven from red autumn clover, goldenrod, and other wildflowers. Orla gently took the wreath, placing it over her boyish, short hair.

"Thank you, little majesty. It's lovely; I shall wear it all day."

"Jane!" Lady Turnkey examined her daughter in astonishment. "What did you do with your hair?!"

"Oh, mother…"

…

Market Day greeted the castle folk of Kippernia with a brisk bright morning. There was a cool, crisp breeze offset by the light warmth of the autumn morning sun. Orla walked with Jane and Pepper down the foliage-gilded path to the town square. The square was brimming with colored silk bolts that gleamed like flags, produce stands spilling over with exotic citrus fruits and spices from the East, not to mention stall after stall of sweet smelling soap and scented oils. And the people, oh the people, seemed to flow from everywhere hackling, talking, and laughing, culminating in the center of the square where a band of musicians led a never-ending dance.

There was young man with dark sleek hair and a smart grey tunic patrolling the castle square. He was clearly older than his years, his eyes weary and slightly shadowed. As they approached Orla noticed that his right leg was missing, a wooden counterpart in its place.

"Hullo there, Gunther." Jane smiled politely as they neared him.

"Jane," he gave her a curt nod before turning to address the other two. "I trust you all are enjoying the festivities?"

"We've only just arrived," Pepper replied. "Have you met Orla? She's the new castle mage."

Orla curtsied; Gunther gave a customary nod.

"How goes the town patrol, captain?" Jane asked cheerfully.

"All as usual," Gunther sighed, surveying the crowds. "Though Garrick and Harman have been giving me trouble lately. They've been bothering some of the local shop girls."

"Are they those bigger chaps?" Jane asked, motioning upwards with her hand. "The big tall one and the weird lanky one?"

"Yes, and it'd be a shame to lose man power like that, but they've not been heeding orders as of late." Gunther sighed. "One more mishap and I'll have to throw them off the force."

"Pity," Jane sympathized. "Well, best of luck today. We'll all try to enjoy ourselves like law-abiding citizens."

Gunther smiled weakly, giving the girls a quick bow before meandering onward through the crowd.

"Old beef-brain talking up a storm, eh?" Jester sidled up eating a pear and cheese turnover. Smithy and Rake followed, also with turnovers.

"Oh, come off it Jester," Jane frowned. "I thought we'd dropped the childish name calling aside."

"One battle wound and he may as well be as indisputable as the Virgin Mother," Jester muttered under his breath.

Jane shot him a glare and grabbed Pepper's hand, leading her off towards a stall selling ribbons. Jester groaned, Smithy rolled his eyes, Rake pretended to be interested in his turnover.

"I feel as if I've missed context…" Orla said looking from one lad to another.

"Gunther used to be a squire like Jane," Smithy replied. "Last winter there was a border skirmish with the Moors. Gunther was able to dismantle a key enemy stronghold, but in the process he was thrown from his horse. Jane was able to save his life from the attackers, but the same couldn't be said for his leg."

"Gunther can't complete his training because of the injury," Rake added. "And he wouldn't stand a chance if he returned to battle. But he'll be knighted this coming spring with Jane for his service to the king. He's the captain of the town guard now."

"You forget to mention that he was the biggest and most complete arse in all of Kippernium," Jester muttered. "That he did everything in his power to make sure that Jane was never knighted."

"Gunther's wound has humbled him," Smithy said patiently. "He and Jane have settled their differences, _as should we._"

Orla watched as Jester continued to eye Gunther across the crowd with suspicion. There was a tiny spark, almost untraceable, twinkling in his eye, something territorial. Orla smiled, giving Jester a hearty thump on the back to break his concentration.

"Come on then lad, let's find Rake something to woo his lady with."

As Orla and the lads set off through the labyrinth of goods, she gave Jester's hand a knowing squeeze, as if to say: '_Don't worry about him. He's got nothing on her.'_

…...

Gunther Breech paced slowly through the crowds; all seemed to be in order. _Except…_He found himself gazing periodically over to the florist's cart. Gunther shook himself, turning to walk the opposite direction. He stopped. _Well, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stop by. For professional reasons of course, just to make sure things were running smoothly. _Gunther straightened himself and slowly made his way through the crowd to the little cart. It stood out in the sea of people, decked in the colors of the changing seasons. Deep, blue-violet monkshood and fall crocus, speckled toad lilies, golden black-eyed-Susans, and asters of every color flowed from its nooks and crannies. But there, outshining her merchandise, stood the flower girl herself, with a round, sweet face and warm, wavy chestnut brown hair tucked under a floral kerchief. Upon noticing his approach, she gave him a dimpled smile that made his insides flop and flutter. He cleared his throat.

"Good Morning, Miss Eliza-Rose."

"Good Morning, Captain Breech."

"I trust you're having safe and productive market day," Gunther said in his most businesslike tone.

"Indeed I am," she gave him a soft smile. "But Captain, you're not dressed for the festivities."

"I must wear my uniform for such an occasion, madam."

"Nonsense," She picked a bright pink aster from one of the baskets. "You need a bit of color for such a fine day."

Gunther gravely accepted the flower, tucking it in the second buttonhole of his tunic. He gave a short bow, turning to leave. Unfortunately, his wooden leg was not cooperating, and he stumbled into the cart, disturbing a basket of chrysanthemums. Gunther felt his face grow hot and his throat tighten; damn that leg of his, he would never get used to it.

"I-I'm sorry Miss Eliza-Rose," He moved to straighten the basket.

"Never mind that, are you alright, Captain?" She put a worried hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, quite alright I believe," Gunther said rather quickly, feeling his face betray his embarrassment. "I-I shall see you around madam."

"Please," She smiled. "Call me Libby."

Gunther felt himself stand a little straighter. He bowed deeply.

"Good day, Miss Libby and thank you for the flower."

…...

"For the last time Rake, I am almost certain that Pepper would not be seduced by a packet of radish seeds."

"But, you don't understand!" Rake was trying to reason with Jester at the horticulture stall. "It's a special hybrid of radish! They grow in the shape of hearts-"

"And as romantic as we both think that is," Jester steered him away from the stand. "Women are fickle creatures, they desire things of whimsy. Like sweets, or silks. Alas, many are frightened away by the serious commitment that a radish embodies."

Rake sighed, dropping the little pouch back in the seed display. Smithy gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"We'll find something for her, lad."

"I still don't see why my opinion has been neglected thus far," Orla sighed.

"Because," Jester rolled his eyes. "You'll pick out something that she actually wants, and then she'll know it was a girl who picked it."

"You're ridiculous."

Orla and the lads wandered onward through the stalls. After nearly tipping over a pottery stand, buying Smithy three more pear turnovers, and rescuing Rake from a particularly forward saleswoman in her mid-forties who was marketing a male performance-enhancement tonic, the group had made it to the other side of the square.

"Still nothing," Rake slumped against the side of a nearby shop.

"Chin up, there's a few booths we haven't tried yet." Orla scanned the crowd.

Jester pulled Rake to his feet. "Come on, Goldrath's Circus has a stall past the wine seller's. They're showcasing a few of their smaller acts. It'll cheer you up!"

Snithy noticed Orla stiffen momentarily. When he glanced back at her she chose to take particular interest in watching the dancing at the center of the square. Jester and Rake were already walking ahead in the crowd.

"Oy!" the fool called. "You slowpokes coming?"

"I'm gonna try to find Pepper and Jane!" Orla called back. She turned and walked towards a medicinal supply stall.

Smithy simply nodded to Jester, to show that he would also be lagging behind. Jester gave him a devilish grin and a hearty wink before dragging Rake away.

Snithy rolled his eyes and meandered over to the stall where Orla was purchasing something. He frowned.

"You know that Rake can provide you with any medicinal herb on the face of the earth, right?"

"I wasn't buying any herbs," Orla said lightly, pocketing her purchase. "Its Celtic sea salts, good for reducing aches and pains. The queen has been sore from her pregnancy."

Smithy nodded. He elbowed her, smiling.

"Come on, I'll get you something to eat."

They ran over to the baker's stall; the poor owner had seen them too many times that day.

"You bought the last turnov-"

"We'll take that one, please!" Orla pointed.

The baker sighed, wrapping the pastry in paper and handing it to her for a crown.

"What? No change?" Smithy looked at the package curiously as they walked away. "Whatever did you buy?"

"Here, your favorite."

Smithy unwrapped the paper to reveal a short, dense cake, sticky with caramel and studded with figs.

"I swear you're a saint." He broke off a gooey piece, handing it back to her.

"Magyk Wares! Get your mage equipment here! Not since Themes have you seen such goods!"

"You want to take a look?" Smithy gestured to the small stall in the back corner of the square.

Orla gave a shrug and they wandered over to where a wizened woman was bartering with a local warlock.

"No I will not lower my price on the Charm papers!" She shook a scroll in her wrinkled fist. "I already gave you a deal on the newt testes."

Smithy made a face. Orla laughed. The discouraged, and slightly embarrassed warlock finally moved on.

"What can I interest you in, my dears?" The old woman cheerfully polished a bat skeleton.

"Just looking m'am." Orla perused the stall.

"And what about you dearie?" The jolly crone turned to Smithy. "Perhaps and strength tonic? Or a love potion?"

Orla snorted. Smithy felt himself go red; he nervously scratched the back of his head.

"N-no ma'm. Just looking."

"Eh, can't blame me for trying," She shuffled over to her bench to count coins.

Smithy looked over to where Orla was toying with a heavy brass orbital map of the solar system.

"Find anything good?"

"Nah," She scanned the scrolls and shook her head. "Just the usual. Household charms, standard jinxes, easy potions. Its all beginner stuff."

"Would the lady like another look?" The old woman had drawn back a curtain to reveal a small alcove. Smithy and Orla tentatively entered. Smithy wasn't incredibly familiar with magyk, but he could tell that this stuff was the real deal. Huge, leather bound tomes, silver instruments that whirred and whizzed on their own accord, small vials of glowing liquid, and there, nestled in the center on a bed of red cloth…

"Dragon scales," Orla breathed, kneeling for a closer look. They were lined up along the cloth according to size and color, glinting gently.

"Ah, yes, they're always a crowd pleaser," The old woman remarked proudly. "All obtained from abandoned nests, shedding and the like. I pride myself on fighting dragon poaching. For a small fortune one of them could go home with you of course. Might I suggest the Corsican _Rosa-Perla_? It does remarkable wonders if you're trying out divination, not to mention its lovely pink-opal color."

Smithy looked down, Orla was not at all interested in the _Rosa-Perla_. He watched her slowly extend her hand over to one of the smallest scales, sleek, smooth, and inky black. With shaking hands, she picked it up; it glinted indigo in the light.

"I see we have an expert here," The old woman smiled. "You've found the rarest member of my collection. That's the-"

"_Natt Raseri, _the Norwegian Night Fury." Orla murmured.

"You're familiar?"

"Yes," Orla smiled sadly. "Dragons have been a bit of a hobby of mine."

"Its very powerful," The old woman said quietly. "And mysterious. No one's been able to harness all of its potential. Why, just past spring Rivald of Themes blew up half his tower trying to experiment with it."

Orla stood, brushing herself off.

"I doubt I'd be able to afford such a treasure," She smiled wryly. "But I would like to purchase that _Advanced Instruction of Enchantments_, I've misplaced mine."

"You seem like someone who'll appreciate it, I'll sell it half price."

"No really, there's no nee-"

"Nonsense, who else am I going to sell it to?" The old lady threw her hands up in the air. "'Newt Testes Boy'? Now hand over the gold before I give it to you for free."

Orla and Smithy thanked the woman and left the shop.

"You didn't tell me you lost your work in the Spring," Smithy said as they pestered the beleaguered baker for yet another caramel fig-cake.

"You never asked,"Orla snatched up the sweet teasingly. "No hogging it this time, you ate most of the last one."

"So you've just been wandering around on your own this whole time?" Smithy asked, brow furrowed.

"More or less," Orla shrugged through a mouthful of cake. "What? Don't give me that face. I'm here, aren't I? Safe and sound. Don't get your britches in a bunch, its market day."

…...

"Maybe this one, Citrus and Ginger, sounds exotic," Jane sniffed the bottle of perfume. "Ooh, I like this one, its feisty."

"Let me see."

Jane and Pepper had gone through at least half a dozen stalls, trying everything from ribbons to lace. Sadly nothing had been what Pepper was looking for. Jane was praying that this would appease her. She wondered if there were any pear turnovers left…

"Yes."

"Excuse me?" Jane looked back at Pepper, who was smiling down at the little perfume bottle in her hands. "The Citrus and Ginger, it's perfect."

Jane did a mental victory jump.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's buy it and seduce the crap out of him!" She grinned.

"Hello ladies!" Jester approached the stall, dragging Rake in tow.

Jane crossed her arms, scowling at him. "Have you come to apologize?"

"But of course!" Jester said through gritted teeth as he swung his arm around Jane's shoulders, steering her away from the stall. "In fact, I'll buy you a snack to compensate for it. Rake, help Pepper finish her purchase."

The fool nodded at Rake, who turned pink in the face. Jester and a reluctant Jane disappeared into the crowd. Rake turned back to Pepper, who was trying to pay the lady as discreetly as possible.

"Here," Rake paid the lady two crowns before Pepper could reach her coin purse.

"Rake!" Pepper blushed, quickly picking up the bottle to stow it in her apron.

"H-hey there!" Rake grabbed Pepper's hand, laughing nervously. "I want to know what I just bought."

Pepper hesitantly relinquished the bottle, her fingers brushing against Rake's palm. He felt his tummy do a flip. It was perfume. Why hadn't he thought of that? Rake uncorked it and took a whiff. It was spicy and fresh and sensual.

"Citrus… and…Ginger?"

"That's right!"

"It's lovely," Rake smiled at Pepper, slowly handing the bottle back to her.

They stood like that for a few seconds, smiling loopily at each other. Rake finally cleared his throat. He took her hand in his.

"W-would you want to-"

"Hey, doll-face! Is this worm messing with you?"

Two young men in grey guard tunics stood in front of them. The first was an impressive figure with strong shoulders, slicked brown hair, and a haughty expression. The second resembled a stoat, or some other rodent. He slouched in the shadow of his leader, snickering.

"I think he is Mr. Garrick," the stoat-boy sneered gleefully.

"As do I, Mr. Harman," Garrick smirked, strutting over to Rake. "What about it, Worm Boy? What are you bothering the pretty girl for?"

"Please, he wasn't doing anything wro-" Pepper tried to protest.

"We've got protocol for disrupters of the peace," Garrick grabbed Rake by the neck of his tunic.

"Yeah, disrupters of the peace," Harman sniggered.

"But luckily for you its market day, and we're feeling gracious." With that Garrick shoved Rake away, slamming him into a nearby cart. The to blokes guffawed as Rake was knocked over by the impact.

"Stop it! You leave him alone!" Pepper rushed forward, raising her hand to retaliate.

"Cool your skirts doll-face," Garrick caught her wrist, leaning in too close for comfort. "You're lucky you're cute, otherwise I'd have to knock some sense into you." And with that he gave her a hearty slap on the behind.

Something in Rake snapped. _No one _treated Pepper like that.

There was a sickening _**SMACK!**_ It took Pepper a moment to realize what had happened. One moment Garrick had been looming over her, and the next he had gone flying. The piteous filth was now on the cobblestone, clutching his face in moaning. Rake stood over him, fists clenched and eyes blazing in fury. He had had knocked Garrick to the ground in a single blow.

Rake seized a staff from a nearby stall, pointing it threateningly at Garrick. Garrick looked around for Harman, who had mysteriously disappeared.

"_You are never to go near her again,"_ Rake seethed. "Do you understand?"

Garrick nodded, scrambling away from his unlikely adversary.

Rake threw the staff to the ground and watched the scum leave. He then turned to Pepper, eyes still ablaze.

"Rake…are you alright?" She breathed as he strode back over to her.

Rake said nothing. He simply wrapped an arm around her waist drawing her closer as he leaned in to kiss her fully on the mouth. Pepper let out a small squeal of surprise, only to slowly wrap her arms around his neck. They swayed slightly for a moment before they broke, panting slightly. Rake blinked a few times, feeling the adrenaline rush from the fight fading. He turned bright red, backing away slowly.

"I'm s-sorry Pepper, I d-didn't mean to take advantage-"He stuttered.

Pepper tackled him gleefully to the ground.

…...

Smithy and Orla stood speechless, a few stalls away.

"Well…" Smithy began slowly. "I guess pulling turnips gives you a good pair of dukes."

"You can say that again," Orla said, still dazed. The pair continued to walk towards the center of the square. Orla suddenly froze. Smithy looked at her quizzically.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"_Come see Goldrath's Circus! Wonders the human mind can't fathom!"_

A pair of performers was wading through the crowd, one shouting, the other carrying a banner.

Orla grabbed Smithy's hand.

"Come on, we're dancing."

Before he had time to react, Smithy was dragged to the center of the town square, which was crowded with swirling skirts and stamping boots as a fiddle, fife, and drum struck out a lively tune. They were well hidden in the center of the crowd. Smithy jumped a little as Orla pressed her body against his.

"Hand on my waist Jethro. This is a dance, not a walk."

Smithy complied, twirling her and drawing her close, a strong hand on her waist.

"Why are you so afraid of circuses?" He asked as he spun her again.

"It's the clowns, no one can be that happy all the time. They're unnatural."

"Really?" Smithy drew her close as they stepped with the other dancers in a circle. "Call me mad, but something tells me you had a run in with one particular show some time between this past spring and coming to work at the castle."

Orla was quiet as the couples continued to circle.

"It was late July," She finally murmured.

"Was that before or after you sold your hair?" Smithy asked, briefly brushing a cropped lock behind her ear.

"After," She answered quietly. "Goldrath's wonders are not as wondrous as one would think."

The song had ended, Smithy wanted to press further but he could tell that Orla was becoming uncomfortable. He could ask later. The band struck up another song, faster this time. All around them, the men were offering their partners the edge of a scarf or handkerchief. Smithy took his kerchief from his pocket and offered it to Orla.

"I think I've spoiled the mood enough today," He bowed. "Will you dance with me m'lady? It's not everyday a lad like me is in the company of a faerie queen."

Orla smiled gratefully, straightening her flower crown and taking the other end of the cloth.

"As long as you promise to keep a beat this time."

…...

Mojo: Thank Mistofelees that's over. Well, I guess you should review this, apurrrrrrrr.


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